One of my favorite goofy movies is So I Married An Axe Murderer. If you like Mike Myers or just ridiculous movies, it’s a must see comedy.

A few days ago, one scene popped into my head. The two main characters, Charlie and Harriet, were lying in bed when Harriett casually asks Charlie if he’d ever been standing with someone on a cliff or subway platform and thought, “What if I pushed them..?” to which Charlie replies, “No, not really. Usually I follow the Judeo-Christian ethic of ‘Thou shalt not kill’. But that’s just me.”

Not surprisingly, this popped into my head after talking to Morticia… It was the day I finally had a bit of inspiration and was going to write and she interrupted my flow, so I watched J-Rock videos and ditty-bopped the entire time we were talking and pretty much tuned her out except to add an occasional “Uh-huh…” so she thought I was listening. And, when I finally got off the phone, whatever I’d had in mind for my short story was gone. I was so irked… This was when that scene popped in my head. I must admit, I’ve thought that about her.

If you’re thinking I’m planning something bad for Morticia, don’t. I have no intentions of pushing her off some steep incline or in front of a train. Though if I knew how, I’d sever the nerves to her vocal cords so she’d shut the fuck up and stop bitching.

Her latest complaint every one of the half dozen times she calls me a day has been that she doesn’t feel good, she feels sick, though she won’t tell you exactly how. Eventually she’ll say she feels like she’s going to throw up, she’s so tired, has no energy… Blah blah blah… This morning I told her it’s because she’s not eating. Can’t have energy if you’re not giving your body fuel. I don’t eat a lot, but that’s okay, I’m not on my feet running ragged all day. If I am, I eat more. But she didn’t want to hear that. She wants there to be something seriously wrong with her.

The past few days, she’s been telling me she’s having chest pain and dizzy spells again. Today she told me her EKG and stress echocardiogram were fine, they couldn’t find anything wrong and it’s frustrating… Is she serious…?! Yet, when I’m not feeling well or I’m scared because of this ischemia shit, she belittles me! She doesn’t agree with their diagnosis. Really… When did you become a doctor, Morticia? She acts as if there couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with me, the doctors shouldn’t scare me like that. Much as I hate to admit it, in some ways, Gomez is right. She is a hypochondriac. But it’s not the way he thinks… I really think she has Munchausen’s, which is a serious mental illness. For those who don’t know what that is, in a nutshell, people will act ill and, on occasion, intentionally make themselves ill just so they get attention from people.

Hey, I get it… There are times when I’m not feeling well myself. But at least I can recognize when I really don’t feel well as opposed to when I’m just feeling unloved and neglected. I’m sure most of us have felt that way at some point. Hell, once when I was overly stressed and was focusing my attention on everyone else and forgot to take care of me, too, I could feel the meltdown coming on. So I drove to my mom’s, vented and cried… then told her I needed a hug. I think the last time I asked her for one was when I was in my first few years of elementary school. She seemed pretty shocked I made such a request as I hate being touched, but she gave me one and, suddenly, I felt much better. Sometimes all you need is a hug… And I get it, I’m sure she feels very neglected being with Gomez. She’s a very touchy-feely person when it comes to expressing herself. She loves giving and getting hugs, something she doesn’t get from Gomez. So I understand why she feels the need for attention. But I really wish she would understand that these feelings of illness are nothing more than her mind manifesting false symptoms in order for her to get the attention she’s craving and sadly lacking.

In Morticia’s mind, there’s something wrong with her. But me…? Oh no, there’s apparently nothing wrong with me… I mean, they actually found something goofy in my EKG and found nothing in hers. But there’s something wrong with her heart and not mine. Yesterday we were discussing my diet (which is a very small list of things that are okay for me to have) and she told me I could have those things, I didn’t have high cholesterol. Now, she knows the doctor put me on meds for it… So I told her that yes, I did. She told me that I didn’t… Again, are you a doctor?! Did you see my lab results?! My cholesterol is 105 points higher than hers! It’s not horribly high, but it’s high enough that they put me on meds to keep it in check. Apparently, estrogen helps do that, but I haven’t had any in almost 13 years…

Yesterday, I had to do something I don’t like to do… I had to let the brain out to compose and important email…

I feel horrible when I have to do this. Especially when you need to write it because a large company or institution fucked you over. Morticia called while I was writing said email and I brushed her off, telling her I had to call her back, told her what I was doing and that I didn’t want to lose my flow. When I’m on a roll, don’t stop me… Anyway… I spoke to her after I was finished and told her what the email was about and that I had to pull out the brain, which I really do feel badly for doing. I never liked people knowing I have a brain. When they know, they tend to expect too much from you. So I choose to speak (and write) as your average Joe. It makes my life simpler. Besides, I don’t want to alienate people… Most of the time, I just let my brain sit there, growing cobwebs from lack of use. When I need it, I take it out, dust it off and shine it up nice and pretty to verbally slam anyone who needs verbal slamming. It could be someone who fucks me over or someone who treats me as if I’m stupid.

In some ways, I’m much like the character of Otto in A Fish Called Wanda… That’s a funny ass movie. Anyway, he always gets really offended when someone calls him or something he said stupid and will say, “Don’t call me stupid…” usually before he kicks the shit out of you. The difference between this character and myself is that Otto really is stupid…

On occasion, Morticia tries to compare her IQ with mine and acts as if we are equals in that department. Really… At least I know you don’t pronounce Italian as “eye-talian”, I know that “disorientated” is not proper grammar… I was accepted into the Johns Hopkins program (though I never accepted) when I was only 12 and had just started 7th grade. I read books that contain as many footnotes as they do actual content and never need to use them, such as books in Old English (think Beowulf). She’s nowhere near my level. Most people aren’t… I’m happier as a dumb ass. It’s my choice to act like one. Egg-heads don’t fit in anywhere…

Ah, well… I suppose I should take that all with a grain of salt, considering who it’s coming from…

I just don’t understand this weird competition she seems to be in with me. I mean… I’m no one special… I’m just your average, everyday girl (yeah, I know… but if you lump everyone into boys and girls, I’m a girl no matter how old my ass is). I grew up poor in a shit-splat little town of way under 3000 people. All I ever wanted was to create art and make people happy with it. I hated school, which the exception of art, chorus and English (my favorite classes) and could care less if I made good grades. Even now, I’m no one special. Still living in the same town, not doing much… There’s nothing glamorous or special about my life. Well… not unless you find being mentally ill or having some unfortunate health issues over the years glamorous… I know that I find being so depressed you can’t get out of bed, having anxiety so badly you need to take a pill 3 times a day every day just to function, crazy germ-phobe OCD and having to lose my ovaries to be very glamorous… Not… Trust me, there’s nothing special enough about me to compete with.

The only things that are special about me seem more like special-ed, hahahaa…

Even at this advanced age, I still love stuffed animals and buy them quite often. I have a fetish for pens and have to walk through the pen aisle of every store or I don’t feel “normal”… I went through a lot of trouble and expense just to replace a part of the My Little Pony collection my mother threw out. I love odd little things and collect anything that speaks to me. I still have a sticker fetish, I love cute, weird items, like my avocado cat sticker I bought over the weekend. His face is squishy! Squishing it makes me feel happy and silly. Admit it… you want to squish his face, too… But that’s about it. I’m just someone who’s more than a half bubble off center who gets more pleasure out of the little things in life than being some important person or someone with a high IQ. That’s nothing to be in competition with…